


A Symphony In G

by MadeOfStardust (FieldsOfSunshine)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Edging, Hand Job, M/M, Sherlock likes to goad Greg, first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:10:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FieldsOfSunshine/pseuds/MadeOfStardust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's smut really...Oh, and Sherlock likes to annoy Lestrade. I suck at summaries, really badly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Symphony In G

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Sherstrade story, despite shipping them for around about a year now...  
> First ever story for the Sherlock fandom actually...and my first time writing smut in years.
> 
> That's a lot of firsts right there.
> 
> So if it's awful, I apologise in advance <3
> 
> This is unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own.

“God, don’t stop...nrrgh…” Sherlock moans, head thrown back, hands gripping the silk sheets below him hard enough to tear through them. 

Greg is between the detective’s long, pale legs. Two fingers up the younger man’s arse, teasing his prostate every now and then, and his mouth on his cock, alternating between quick, gentle bobs and long, slower ones with plenty of tongue. 

The DI glances up the beautiful body below him and smirks, Sherlock’s back is arching. He’s so close he’s leaking precome constantly, eyes screwed shut, mouth open and panting for air. Three more quick bobs, a particularly hard stroke over the man’s swollen prostate and he pulls off, leaving his fingers inside but unmoving. 

It seems to take Sherlock’s mind a couple of seconds to catch up with his body, which is amusing in itself, but the look of panic and irritation that adorns his usually stoic, impassive features a moment later is priceless. 

“What? Why did you--?!” He starts, glaring at the smirking DI. 

“Stop?” Greg finishes, “It’s an experiment.” He adds. 

“An exper-?” The younger man sputters, clearly not impressed by this turn of events. 

“You might not like it much now, but I think you’ll enjoy the results. Trust me.” The older man says before swallowing Sherlock’s cock again in one go. The younger man’s no doubt acerbic reply dying on his tongue, a small gasp followed by a quite pornographic groan escaping those cupid’s bow lips instead. 

“Fuck...Lestrade…” The detective moans. 

The tone of it makes Greg’s cock twitch, but the _Lestrade_ ignites a spark of annoyance. Why can’t he ever call me by my first name? We’re in bed together for fuck’s sake...he thinks, and after a few more moments of sucking cock in ways a Whitechapel prostitute would be proud of, he asks as much. 

“Really, Lestrade? Is that honestly a priority right now?” Sherlock asks, clearly becoming increasingly frustrated at being denied release. 

“Yeah, it kind of is Sherlock. We’re in bed together and you can’t be bothered to call me by my first name?” 

“Oh for-- get on with it!” Sherlock snaps. 

“Do you even remember it?” The DI asks, genuinely intrigued. 

“Of course I know it!” 

“So? What is it?” The older man asks with a smirk, his hand closing loosely around Sherlock’s swollen erection, fisting slowly with just enough friction to tease but not enough to send the younger man over the edge. “Well?” 

“Fuck off.” Sherlock spits, though there’s no real bite to his words, his eyes glazed and hips attempting to rut into that teasing grip. 

“Nope, definitely not that, Sherl.” Greg retorts, straddling the top of the detective’s thighs, effectively stopping his futile humping. 

“I hate you…” The younger man groans, head thrown back in frustration. 

“Not even close…” The DI murmurs, swiping his thumb over the head of the throbbing cock in his hand, the copious amounts of precome making Greg’s own cock twitch in sympathy. 

“G-Gavin…?” Sherlock moans. 

“Nope.” Greg replies, a slight pang in his chest he refuses to acknowledge as hurt. Taking his hand off of Sherlock’s cock, he shifts back until he can get the proper leverage to start fucking him hard with the two fingers still in the younger man’s arse, his thick digits hitting their mark every time.

“Oh, yessss...more!” The detective moans, getting louder with every thrust to his sensitive prostate. 

Greg keeps this up for a few more moments, before stopping abruptly. “You got the G bit right at least…” 

“Bloody hell… Geoff?” 

“Geoff, really? No.” The DI replies with a shake of his head, resuming his loose fisting of the younger man’s painfully hard cock. 

Sherlock lets out a noise that can only be described as a sob, “Please…?” 

“I don’t think you even deserve to come to be honest, Sherlock. You’re such a brat. I’ve known you for 8 years, you can’t even be bothered to remember my name…” Greg scolds. 

“I know you’re name, it’s Lestrade!” 

“First name, Holmes!” The DI replies, his voice a low growl.

“Gregory Nicholas Lestrade! Now let me come, you filthy old--” 

“Yeah and you’re a stubborn little shit.” Greg snaps back but starts fucking the younger man again, swallowing his cock to the hilt, sucking hard. 

“Oh...fuck harder, please… Greg!” The detective moans loudly enough for Mrs. Turner next door to hear, let alone Mrs. Hudson, but damn if it doesn’t make the DI’s already damp trouser front positively wet. The older man complies and groans around his mouthful as he feels Sherlock’s walls begin to spasm and clench around him. 

“Fuck, I’m coming….” The detective sobs in a timbre that trickles down Lestrade’s spine like smoke and honey and melted chocolate and, god, if it isn’t the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. The DI moans in return, the vibrations pushing the younger man over the edge. Sherlock’s back arches impossibly, his arse clenching down on the older man’s fingers with an iron grip, cock jumping as it spurts, three, four jets of come down Greg’s waiting throat. 

The DI slows his thrusts to a gentle grind against that spot inside the younger man, milking every last drop of come from the detective, causing him to writhe with the aftershocks coursing through his body. 

“Fuck, Greg...too much.” He groans after a moment and the DI gently removes his fingers, kissing his way up the younger man’s gorgeous, pale body until he reaches his lips, swollen from their kissing earlier and -rather unsuccessfully- biting back groans. 

They kiss slowly, deeply, hands roaming each other’s body until Sherlock’s end up in Greg’s short hair, tugging gently until the older man pulls back. 

“That was incredible.” The younger man murmurs, eyes locking with the silver haired man’s. “Of course I remember your name, how could I not” 

“Then why--?” 

“I knew where it was going, and you’re correct, I enjoyed it very much.” The younger man smirks. 

“Manipulative git.” Greg grumbles, but his eyes are smiling. 

“Hmm. I believe we have more pressing matters at hand…” Sherlock rumbles, his normally deep baritone even lower and roughened by sex. He traces the shell of the older man’s ear with the tip of his tongue, his hand snaking under the DI’s waistband and around the man’s rock hard cock, swiping his thumb over the puffy, wet head. 

“God...fuck, Sherlock…” Greg groans, head tipping back to expose his neck. Sherlock can’t resist, he loves that neck, he leans down and licks a stripe from the DI’s collarbone up to his ear lobe, sucking it into his mouth and nibbling on it lightly. 

It doesn’t take much, a few more tugs and Greg’s coming over Sherlock’s fist. He’d be a bit embarrassed about how quick he was, only he’s not. If Sherlock could see himself, hear himself...he’d understand. 

The younger man doesn’t seem at all bothered by the DI’s apparent lack of stamina however, in fact if anything he seems rather pleased, surging forward to capture the tanned man’s lips in a passionate kiss before carefully removing his hand from Greg’s joggers and licking the come from it, eyes locking with the DI’s as he groans in appreciation. 

“God, you’re filthy.” He murmurs, hand fisting in Sherlock’s dark curls and pulling him in for another kiss, moaning into that sinful mouth as he tastes himself on the younger man’s tongue. 

Sherlock pulls back with a smirk, “You love it, Gary.” 

End.


End file.
